A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes
by worldssockrocker
Summary: Reflections of several intense firsts. Oneshot, slash DMHP


A/n: I decided that this would take place as though book 5 had never been written. So even though I am very well aware that Dumbledore cannot be the one to kill Voldemort, I still have him facing Voldemort off as though such a thing would happen.

I got bored and have writers block on my other two fics… and then I got inspired to write this… so I did. Also I decided that since it's my birthday I should be nice and post something.

The sex scene would be more graphic only I swore to my sister to never write a sex scene. So you are just going to have to use your imaginations.

Disclaimer: Not mine…all the people and places belong to J.K Rowling. Quotes have been borrowed from Lord of the Rings and Cinderella (The Disney version). Really cheap or super creative? That's up for you to decide.

**A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes**

Do you remember our first kiss? It was behind the Quidditch stands after a particularly violent Gryffindor versus Slytherin match. We were the only two on the playing teams to not be sent to the hospital wing. The stands were deserted; the noble Gryffindors were probably all crowded into the Hospital Wing by now, making sure their beloved team was going to live. The Slytherins were probably in the dungeons, celebrating the first time Draco Malfoy beat Harry Potter to the snitch, winning the game for Slytherin.

You waited for me outside the locker room, grabbed my arm to make sure I did not go anywhere and whispered my name in my ear. I was entranced and could not help but follow you as you lead me somewhere more private. I know not what it was that you had planned or what you were thinking. I only know that I was thinking how much I wanted to kiss those damnably beautiful lips of yours.

You opened your mouth; I still don't know what you were going to say. I kissed you then, afraid I would lose the chance forever. Afraid that whatever would leave your gorgeous lips would bring us back to our past and not give us a chance for a different future.

The kiss started slow and timid, we were both fearful of rejection. When no form of rejection came from either of us the kiss intensified, it spoke of our needs and desires. And then you broke it off. You left swiftly; leaving me in a stupor incomparable to any I had ever been in. The rain was coming down so hard that by the time I focused again you were out of sight.

Walking back through to the castle I could find no signs of you. The grass everywhere was bent and the mud trodden from the hordes of Quidditch fans that had been out there just moments before. Inside the castle was no better, muddy footprints went in every direction and Filch had all ready started on the cleaning, looking as bad tempered as always.

For the next week I could not look at the Quidditch pitch without thinking about that kiss. I was thankful that practise was cancelled because all my teammates were, despite their protests, 'unfit to play', according to Madam Pomfrey. I was unable to look at you for weeks as well. You had no problem looking at me though.

I could feel the intensity of your stare on my back in class. I could feel you looking at me across the Great Hall during dinner. But, driven by fear once again, I refused to meet your gaze.

Weeks later my courage was back; I chanced a glance at you over breakfast. You were talking to your friends, laughing about something so you didn't notice. This helped my fraying nerves. In Potions I chanced a glance at you again, you were too busy adding dandelion root to your potion to notice me. All day, whenever I could, I kept looking at you and all day you were busy doing something else. It was like you knew what I was doing. But at the time I didn't think about that. At the time all I was concerned with was having enough courage to look you in the eyes again.

Not until Care of Magical Creatures two days later was my goal accomplished. Hagrid was talking about the Erumpent and I was hoping desperately that he did not have one, or was not planning on getting one anytime soon. The images of an attacking Hippogriff were all to vivid in my mind, as I am sure, they were in yours, and the rest of the classes by the looks on everyone's faces.

It was not even intentional that our eyes met, but they did. And you looked at me the same way you had for the past five years. There was none of the desire that I had felt before, when your lips were so urgently pressed against mine. There was just the old loathing.

That night seems so surreal…

Do you remember the first time we shagged? You did not give me an option in the matter, although we both knew exactly how badly I wanted it.

Summer vacation had come and gone we were in our sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Neither of our families wanted us to be there. The Malfoys wanted their son to become well trained in the dark arts and serve the ever more powerful Lord Voldemort and the Dursley's wanted nothing more than for Harry Potter to be a nice and normal muggle boy. But for Draco Malfoy to just disappear would rouse too much suspicion and for Harry Potter to be normal, in the view of his Aunt and Uncle, would be simply impossible.

So back we were, meeting at odd places around the school by night, insulting and hating each other by day. It was a tiresome façade for me and as days went by I began to show it. You however, you showed no signs of weariness.

And then on the very day I had grown exhausted of keeping up this double life and was beginning to think that maybe it would be better to stop meeting you and just go back to detesting you as I had once done, you lead me back to the Quidditch stands, back to where we first kissed. You undressed me at such a speed that I knew you had done it to many people before. And then you walked around examining me, like I was a prize cattle, or a Negro slave from the olden days that you were considering buying

I suppose you like what you saw for you made short work of your own clothes and had me on the ground before I even had the opportunity to contemplate what was going on. You kissed, nipped, and licked your way from my neck to my chest to the part of me that I knew you wanted most. You teased me for a bit and then took me whole into your mouth. It was clear that the myth behind your sexual skills was no myth at all, but simply the truth. One of my hands wrapped in your hair and the other raked your back. I climaxed too soon for my liking, and probably too soon for yours. But you took all I had to offer you and accepted it gladly.

I laid back in exhaustion and I expected you to leave. Just get up and walk away like you did almost a year ago. And I would stay right where I was possibly for hours, naked and not thinking. As I was on the verge of falling asleep I was flipped over and entered in a way I had never imagined any other being entering me.

I was completely without warning and totally without any form of preparation and it hurt, but I didn't cry out. Soon the pleasure overtook the pain and I forgot about everything except for how good I felt. At that moment you and I were one. We knew each other inside and out even though we never spoke a non-insulting word to each other.

I knew all your passions and loathing's. You knew all my fears and weaknesses. Not one thought you had didn't cross my mind and every feeling I felt ripped through you like a surging tide.

To deny a connection between us was like denying that Voldemort would never return to power, or denying that Lucius Malfoy was an evil man. All are things that I tried denying over and over again. Hoping that the half-truths I told myself would block out the whole lies I knew that contradicted my beliefs.

But with you moving inside of me so expertly, I thought not of any of these things. I told myself no half-truths and I only acknowledged one thing. That one acknowledgment, that you were making me feel the most beautifully complete that I had ever felt, was probably the most true, most pure thought of my life.

I cannot remember how many times I muttered your surname, in both it's whole form and it's half form during those ten blissful minutes. Nor can I count the number of times I told you not to stop, never to stop. Nut I do know in those minutes I said more words to you then I had ever said to you or any of your housemates.

But you, you stayed almost completely silent. Except for the occasional grunt and the final releasing moan, you stayed completely silent. You didn't say a word when you finally pulled out from me, nor when you flopped down at my side. You said noting as I raked my fingers languidly through your hair, nor when I stroked your cheek.

You stood up and put your robe on, without even looking at m. You spun on your heel and began walking away, just as I predicted you would. Then you stopped and turned around again. 'See you tomorrow night?' You had asked. You said it like a question, as though I had an option as to whether or not I went. But we both knew that by now I was option-less. I would meet you in the Great Hall right before breakfast began, if you asked it of me.

You nodded and began walking towards the castle. After a couple steps you stopped again, this time to reach down and pick something up. In the darkness I could not make out what it was, but I took it to be a cloak when you draped it around yourself, pulling the hood up you disappeared completely. In my tired state I chuckled, I was not the only one at Hogwarts with an Invisibility Cloak.

That night seems so mythical…

Do you remember when I first told you 'I love you'? Another summer had passed. We were in out last yea at Hogwarts. Soon we would be forced into the real world, where we would become the men we were meant to be. Nothing had changed with our families, they both would have still preferred it if we were at home with them.

This time it was I who brought you out to the stands behind the Quidditch Pitch. We had met in an abandoned classroom. I kissed you hard on the mouth and then covered us both with my cloak. I lead you through the many hallways between the classroom and the exit and then down to the Pitch.

I undressed both you and myself as I had done mane nights before. You just stood there, looking at me wearily, almost as though you knew what was going to happen. I gently cupped your face then pushed your naked body to the ground, just as you had done to me nearly a year ago. You submitted to my every desire as I slowly made love to you for the first time.

You said nothing the entire time, not even a groan escaped your lips. You let me sat what I wanted and kept utterly quiet throughout. I was used to this now because this was what most nights were like. You said little to nothing and I said anything and everything I could possibly think of to fill the wretched silence. But somehow, even through your silence, U came to know you and at some point I started liking you and eventually I grew to love you.

And I told you so that night, as we lay next to each other in the spot that had been witness to our first kiss, and our first shag, our spot.

'I love you,' I had said. You turned to look me in the eye, reading me in a way that I could never read you. 'How?' You asked quietly, doubt and disdain lacing you voice. 'We may have never had an actual conversation, but over that past year I _have_ gotten to know you. I know what you like, and what you don't. I know what you think about and what you feel about almost everything. I know every bit of your gorgeous body. There is so much about you that makes me love you. I love the way you know what I need and when I need it and how you let me have whatever it is whenever I want it. I love how you look when I have pleasured you to the fullest extent possible. I love the connection between us, the way I can feel your presence in my mind, even when you are floors below me. I love you, and everything about you,' I confessed.

You started at me for a long time after that. If it weren't for your breathing I would have though you dead. I started to think that maybe I should not have told you and that it would have been better if we had stayed in classroom and continued our nightly animal rites. Then you spoke, softly as always and as gentle and as light as a lazy autumn breeze.

'Oh,' was all you said, just 'oh'. You rolled over and I rolled on top of you, not sure whether or not your word was a rejection or if your movement was an invitation. When you did not shove me away I began kissing down your body, whispering to you as I went. Over and over I told you how beautiful you were and how much I loved you for it. It was like a curse, once I said it, I couldn't stop.

At some point you had fallen asleep and for a while I just sat and stared. I couldn't help but think that at that moment you were the most beautiful that I had ever seen you. With the moonlight reflected off your skin and your hair falling messily in you face, you looked like a god.

I lay down next to you and took you in my arms and feel asleep beside you, as I had only occasionally done. When I woke up the next morning you were not there. I had no idea how long it was since you left, or even what time it was now. Although judging by the rising sun it was about time for me to be getting back to my dorm room.

That night seems like a dream…

And here we are again. Facing each other. Another summer has passed and now we are both men. Our meetings had slowly decreased since that night almost a year ago. I started with us only meeting a couple times every week, and then only a handful of times every other week, and then a few times a month, and then we just stopped.

This is the first time I have seen you in over half a year and we are both standing exactly where we are supposed to be. I am next to the greatest wizard of all time, Albus Dumbledore, with Hermione and Ron on my other side. You stand next to Lord Voldemort, your father is on the other side and the two of you look so much alike that when I first saw you I thought he to be you.

Our paths in life were so predictable. Since then end of fourth year I knew exactly what was going to happen to us once we left our school days behind, and you have probably known since you were a toddler. We would both fight in the inevitable war; we would both be key figures and loyal servants for our sides; and we would both be on different sides. I would fight on the side of light and you would fight for the darkness.

It never occurred to me that I would fall in love with you. And now, as we walk towards each other in the midst of a raging battle and stop face-to-face, you look at me and your eyes tell me that you love me too.

Looking around I begin to think you planned this moment. Even though the Quidditch stands were taken down weeks ago in preparation for this final battle I know this spot well, and so do you. We are standing on our spot and despite the seriousness of this the situation I smile.

A ways off Dumbledore and Voldemort appear to be having a staring contest. Just beyond them your father is sizing up Ron and Hermione, as though trying to figure out which one to kill first. Ron's face is ashen and Hermione is muttering to herself, most likely repeating every spell she knows that could keep her alive for just a few moments longer.

Although our side outnumbers you, your side seems to be triumphing. I have a pretty good idea how the closest advisees of the two most powerful wizards of the age are going to end. Lucius will make quick work of Ron, and Hermione will follow not soon after. My heart grieves for them, and the lives of the many others that have died tonight and will die later.

You look at me as if to say that this is all just a dream. That no matter what happens tonight it will not make a difference because when I wake up tomorrow everything will be the same as it was when we were last at this spot together. Come tomorrow it will matter not that you have killed me, that your father has killed my two best friends, that your master has killed my mentor, and that the fate of the world will rest in the hands of a wizard who is possibly the most evil man of the century, because this is all a dream. Or so your eyes tell me.

But I know better.

A dream is a wish your heart makes… or so they say.

That is how I know this is real. I would never wish this upon either of us. I long for things to go back to the days not so long ago, when we were both schoolboys, shagging in some remote part of the castle. I yearn to be back behind the Quidditch stands one more time, kissing you tenderly. I would give anything to go back to the days when it all may have been a dream.

To be writhing underneath you is the only wish my heart makes, here at the end of all things.

Fin

contemplations of writing a sequel of some sort, kind of depends on feedback. Also sorry that it is so short.


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